Good Fight and Good Night! Part I
by crystal-tokyo-princess
Summary: It's a VB fic, explaining that universal mystery how in the heck did these two end up together! This was my firstever DBZ fic, which I almost discarded. Instead, I edited, revised, and uploaded here, almost a year after I initially began it! RR!


Good Fight & Good Night! -- Part I  
by: crystal_tokyo_princess  
Author's Note(s): This is the beginning of a V/B romance story I wrote a really long time ago -- *g* it was my first actual try at a DBZ fic. I edited stuff and now I'm ready to release it, although it's not finished. If anyone wants me to continue with it, let me know! Oh, and if you couldn't tell when I wrote this last summer I was addicted to Celebrity Deathmatch on MTV! But it fits so well, no? *g* Yes, I'm working on Part 2 of my untitled alterverse fic! Be watching ... very closely!

* * *

Yamcha and Bulma were sitting together in one of the spacious rooms of the Briefs' Capsule Corporations residence watching television, without so much as a word murmured to one another and at least a meter separating them. It had been nearly a week since Vegeta had been healed after destroying the gravity room he'd been training in, and nothing had been the same between Yamcha and Bulma. Sighing, the latter turned off the television with a flick of the remote -- silence became an uncomfortable weight in the room, and a clearly defined barrier between the couple. Yamcha nervously looked down at his hands, which were resting in his lap. Bulma shifted uncomfortably with another gusty sigh before she turned towards him, hugging her left knee to her chest.

"Yamcha," she began cautiously, rolling his name off her tongue and shifting her weight so that her knee was no longer hiding her torso, "... I've been thinking a lot lately, about us ... We need to talk about our future," Her blue eyes were narrowed slightly in a wary look.

He gulped and pushed back a strand of dark hair, scratching the temple that was on the side not facing her. It made him nervous to talk to her when she was looking at him like that. After a moment he said, "Bulma, I've been thinking the same thing."

"Really? You really mean it?!" 

"Yeah ... we've been dating for a long time ... even though things didn't always work out."

Was he really saying something sensible? Bulma gave him a wide eyed look and before she could stop herself asked bluntly, "Then ... you mean you're gonna ask me to marry you?!"

Yamcha was so stunned by her words he nearly fell off the couch. She'd taken what he'd said the wrong way -- he hadn't intended for it to sound anything like that! He'd really stuck his foot in his mouth that time, and he knew he was about to get the worst verbal thrashing he'd ever received from her.

"Yamcha!"

He winced, "Uh..."

"That is what you meant wasn't it?"

"Actually, it w-"

"What?!"

"Um, well..."

"Excuse me?" Bulma obviously couldn't believe what she was hearing, and by the way she was trying to run the show she really didn't want to hear it -- this, of all things, couldn't be happening to her!

"I, well..." he faltered, "Bulma ... I love you, but..."

"But what?" She shrieked at him, "I can't believe what I'm hearing! "

"But Bulma!" He tried lamely, and in just the right tone to get her really angry.

"Don't 'but Bulma' me, Yamcha!" Her voice had reached a shrill tone as she hit him on the shoulder, probably hard enough to leave a bruise.

"But!"

"I just told you not to say that!"

"I'm not ready for this!" he wailed. Bulma picked up the nearest thing to her, and threw it at him.

"You sorry bastard!" 

Then silence blanketed over again, thankfully for Dr. and Mrs. Briefs were trying to sleep upstairs.

"Your daughter is too loud," Dr. Briefs remarked.

"Our daughter, dear. _Our_ daughter."

He sighed, "I know. I know. But still..." He was interrupted by the sound of something shattering against one of the walls below, "Damn. If she starts acting anymore like ChiChi, I think I'll give myself a long vacation. Yelling and hysterics are bad enough. But throwing and breaking expensive vases?"

"At least she's not chasing him with a broom. Poor Goku, he's so cute!" Mrs. Briefs giggled as a loud thump told them that Yamcha was getting more than just an emotional beating, "I can only think of one thing that could make Bulma anything like Goku's wife!"

"What's that?" He groaned as he imagined the worst.

"If she snagged herself a Saiyan! That Vegeta certainly is quite handsome! He's got a nice butt!" something between a sigh and a giggle escaped her lips, "They'd make such a cute couple!"

"Aaah!" He half-screamed. He had not even thought of that, "Kami forbid!"

"And we'd have the cutest grandchildren! Vegeta's dark good looks, Bulma's eyes and hairVegeta's powerBulma's brains" She tittered on, oblivious to her husband's disapproval.

"I wouldn't want any grandkids from _that_ union!" He exclaimed, gave his wife a look that meant 'can it' and rolled over, "I already know Vegeta at least tolerates her presence better than that of any of the rest of us. And THAT and that is why I don't want him anywhere near her! There's no telling what he could do to her! " 

Again, Mrs. Briefs giggled. Then she patted him comfortingly on the back between some of her giggles, "Dear, Vegeta would never do that to Bulma! I'm sure of it! Besides, what could you do to Vegeta?" 

_Touché -- point taken_, he thought grimly and muttered, "I still think he's capable of it."

"Vegeta's too shy to do that!"

"He's a murderer!!!"

Then the conversation came to an abrupt halt as both winced. Bulma had just screamed at Yamcha again. Dr. Briefs groaned and muttered something under his breath before pulling a pillow over his head. He almost hoped he would be lucky enough not to wake up for a few days. Bulma was bound to take everything out on him next. _So much for a good night's rest._

"Round two!" Mrs. Briefs called out cheerfully in her usual vacuous way. But then again, she would, wouldn't she?

* * *

"Well, Yamcha, I'm waiting for an answer! You've been cheating on me haven't you?!" Bulma blurted out and screamed right in Yamcha's ear, "Well, I should've known it was too good to last! All my hopes and dreams," her voice took on an hysterical note, "-- they've crumbled into little bits!"

"Heh..." Like he could find something to say to that... Something like, 'sorry Bulma. I didn't mean to ruin your life,' wouldn't cut it.

"Have you been cheating on me?" She asked, and didn't wait for his answer, "Wait, I shouldn't even ask! Of course you are! Why wouldn't you be! You haven't been able to get into _my _pants so ... being the 'average' male you are," she was flailing her arms around dangerously, "you just fly off and flip up some random girl's skirt for a one-nighter! Is that it? I'm right aren't I?" 

"N-n-no! Bulma I haven't...I mean...I-I don't know! That's not fair!"

"What?! You don't know?! You don't know if you've been cheating on me?!"

"But..."

"I don't want to hear that word!"

"But Bulma!"

"Don't 'But Bulma' me right now! Those are two words I never, ever want to hear from you! You're nothing but a womanizing, philandering jackass, and almost worse than that you're an awful lying bastard who --"

"But Bulma! I love you!"

"Whatever. Stop jerking me around. I'm sick of it," she said all too quietly. It was eerily quiet for a moment.

"Bulma?" Yamcha asked softly

"What?!

"I...Uh..."

"You can't even form the right words to say what you want, which is probably something lame anyway! I hate you! I hate you! I HATE YOU!" Several breakable items were thrown Yamcha's way.

He dodged most of them, but a vase struck him smack in the forehead, "Ow! That hurt!"

Bulma had her face resting on her hands, rubbing her closed eyes, "You know what? Just leave. I don't want to hear you or see you or know you anymore ... I just want you out of my life ... I've lost enough time and sleep worrying about what you were doing and --" she sighed, "you're just not worth it anymore. If --" she looked up into her ex-boyfriends eyes and started over, "If I ever want to see you again, I'll just call you and talk to you. Otherwise, I'll see you in a few years -- when the androids come. Just go train and don't get yourself killed."

"But Bulma!" He wailed, "I'm sorry, I really am! I'm so sor-"

"OUT!" she picked up the only thing left to throw -- the T.V. remote.

"But..."

"_I said OUT! _And I really mean it!"

"Okay, Okay..." he began to retreat from the room, but not fast enough for Bulma. She threw the remote at him, as well as two other items she'd found one of which was the largest shard of the broken vase. All hit him squarely where they were intended. One in his face, the other in his chest and the heaviest landed right where Bulma felt Yamcha's life was ruled by; you know where. All, especially the last, hit their target perfectly.

With a painful yelp, a wincing face and a bit of trouble breathing, he turned and ran from the Capsule Corp. building, in so much pain and fright he forgot he could fly away. Needless to say, that was the last time he was seen around C.C.H.Q. for quite some time. Thankfully -- for Yamcha's sake -- Vegeta wasn't out of his several hundred times normal gravity training to make the already hurt and frightened earthling piss himself.

* * *

Life went on at Capsule Corporations, but Bulma's social life had come to an abrupt halt, much to her annoyance. So, with her love life thrown out the window, she went sulking around and keeping close tabs on her father and Vegeta to yell at them whenever she was feeling more blue than usual. She was making grand efforts to blame everything that went wrong on Dr. Briefs, and kept bothering Vegeta and telling him not to "overexert" himself with his training.

Neither Bulma nor Vegeta realized that in the way she scolded him it showed how much she cared for him, and that her crush was obvious to those around her even if she was oblivious of the facts herself. For her, yelling at Vegeta was a way of getting her mind off of Yamcha, and for Vegeta, well Bulma's big mouth was always a real big nuisance.

That day, however, had been going nicely for the Saiyan Prince. No distractions from the low-class woman's obnoxious mouth -- it was only Vegeta, his anger at not becoming Super Saiyan, and the anger at being surpassed by two Saiyans he thought were worthless, low-class and unfit to live. His training was the perfect place for him to brood over those thoughts, but then again -- Bulma could always interrupt.

"Vegeta! Get your ass out here this instant and eat something! All you do is train and practice and from what I know, Saiyans eat a lot and need to eat a lot to stay healthy!"

"When did I become a concern of yours, woman?"

"The day you managed to blow up the entire gravity room and injure yourself! I don't want a dead Saiyan around, got that? Cause you know what? I don't want to want to have to waste even an insignificant amount of money burying a loser like you!"

"Humph," one corner of his mouth curved into his trademark smirk, "Since you seem to be going through your monthly mood swings, why don't you switch into a more respectful one and just _bring me my food_?" He snickered at the image of Bulma, a very angry Bulma with her cheeks flushed.

"Oooooh! That remark was so not fair!" she shouted back, and her image quickly disappeared to show that she'd just lost her temper -- and caved in. Vegeta growled under his breath in disgust of Bulma's antics and went back to training at 200 times normal gravity, hardly something expected of anyone who had just completely recovered from his injuries -- Saiyan or not.

Yet, his training in quiet would not last. There was Bulma, beating her fists on the door of the gravity room. Damn it all,' he thought as he flipped the gravity all the way down to 1, what now?' He opened the door.

"There's your damn lunch!" She screamed at him, and pointed towards the ground, as she kicked numerous items off the tray, "Pick it up yourself! Or better yet, eat of the ground!"

He crossed his arms, smirked and gave a low, over-confident, gloating chuckle, even though his ears were still ringing from how shrill Bulma's voice was; the damn voice took away from what was otherwise an attractive female. Bulma turned around and Vegeta could tell she was just barely holding her temper in check. He counted mentally. 1... 2... 3 --

"You men are all the same!" she screamed at him as she jerked around, and that time he did wince. Ouch, watch the eardrums ... but she had better not compare him to Yamcha or Kakarott! The fools _ran_ from women, when they could so easily have just about anything they wanted from them, at least in certain aspects. He'd seen that pitiful ex-boyfriend of Bulma's run from her just like Kakarott ran from his wife, especially in the instances where she had a broom or something else in her hands. Fools: all of them.

"Don't compare me to that idiot Yamcha, or that moron Kakarott" he warned her, the corner of his mouth lifting in a snarl.

"Ha! Can't do that, can I? Can't insult the almighty Prince Vegeta of the nearly extinct Saiyans? Where's your crown and all your loyal servants? Oops. Gone! Your title is meaningless! Oh and it's Goku, okay? GOKU!"

He growled -- that hit a little too close to home, since it was true that he had no 'kingdom' to rule over, "Watch what you're saying woman!"

"Why? I don't see Goku or Gohan kissing your feet! They certainly aren't your subjects!"

"Pah! That low-class soldier and his half-breed brat? When I prove that I'm the best, _Kakarott will die_!"

"Okay, whatever, you've had enough of a power trip for today. Go eat your lunch, monkeyboy. I've got more important things to do than argue with you about this! I'm _sure_ you'll prove your 'princely' 'masculinity' someday. If you really need me, I'll be mylab," she turned again and didn't look back. Vegeta 'humphed' and ate his lunch, grimacing at the taste -- it was cold. Damn the witch and her damnable arguments.

* * *

Two nights later, Vegeta decided to enter the Briefs' house, where he went into the bathroom and took a shower. When he decided to join the Briefs for dinner, Dr. Briefs and Bulma were not happy, while Mrs. Briefs was positively delighted and made sure there was a huge meal on the tables. The ever-so-cheerful woman was the only one who was doing any real talking.

"Bulma dear, pass some potatoes to Vegeta. Oh, and some chicken and some steak and," she looked over at Oolong and giggled, "and some pork fried rice," but despite everything -- including Mrs. Brief's never ending monologue -- dinner was served, eaten and cleared away. Bulma went to take a bath, and Vegeta stalked off to watch the tube before getting ready for more training and realizing he'd left most of his belongings in the bathroom Bulma was currently occupying. He growled, stomped up the stairs and knocked -- rather banged -- his fist onto the door. 

"Who is it?!"

The single, "humph!" was a giveaway.

"I always thought you were the peeping Tom type!" she yelled out at him, "Now what do you want?"

"I left something in there."

"Oh, well, uh the door's unlocked, but promise you won't look at me!"

He snorted, opened the door and walked in, looking straight ahead and of course right at Bulma, who squealed and tried to hide farther under the sudsy water, "I told you not to look!" 

Vegeta smirked, grabbed his belongings and left. Truth was, he hadn't really seen as much as she assumed he had, only enough that he knew he wanted to see more. Then he left his old training clothes with the rest of the dirty laundry, changed into a different set that he had and went back to training. In his opinion, Bulma was a whore anyway.

* * *

The next day, Vegeta's lunchtime argument was late and he was not happy about it, however he continued training, waiting for Bulma to dare interrupt him then at that moment. She did -- the image popping up into the Gravity capsule -- but she just looked at him. There was something different about her appearance and he couldn't quite put a finger on it -- despite the fact that he _knew_ what it was.

Vegeta couldn't take it anymore, "Woman! Why haven't you brought my lunch?"

"Actually, I wanted you to join _me_. Take a break from your training," She smiled at him, and was acting way too nice. The scowl that seemed to naturally be the stoic picture of his face deepened with suspicion.

"Why?"

"Vegeta, you need a _break_ from your _training_. An half-hour won't hurt!"

He glared at her.

"Please? For you," she said, then added, "not for me."

"With a reason like that?"

"You need a break from your training! I won't stop bothering you until you do, and that's a promise!"

"I'll think about it!"

"Good!" She smiled warningly and laughed, "But if you're not here within the next five minutes, you get to hear all my gripes and complaints about today!"

He growled menacingly, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I promise you there's a lot you won't wanna hear about..."

"Fine!"

A smiling picture of Bulma imbedded itself in his memory before the real image disappeared, causing him to snarl. He didn't need this kind of distraction.

* * *

Waiting for him by the door, Bulma laughed out loud. She'd won! Vegeta was going to eat lunch with her! She didn't have to take a lunch to him for a change! In addition, she had a surprise. The perm, which she'd had since about the time Freeza had returned and been killed by the other Super Saiya-jin that had sent Vegeta into another obsession on training harder, was finally gone and she actually liked the shoulder-length, slightly wavy hairstyle she now sported. Yamcha and Vegeta had been completely disgusted with her perm, and now it was gone! Well, she'd just see how Vegeta reacted.

When she saw he was there, she opened the door and got the answer she was looking for. One eyebrow raised slightly and a low 'humph' that told her he'd noticed the difference. Composing himself, he snorted and walked arrogantly through the open doorway, not even look at Bulma again. She slammed the door shut after him. 'Arrogant ass' she thought.

"What's for lunch?"

"Food," she replied in a smart-aleck tone as she pushed him forward, "...and if you want any you'd better get your ass into the kitchen or else you won't get any!"

The two hands propelling him forward did not amuse Vegeta, but he snickered as he thought of something else, "Won't get any what?"

"What?!" she shrieked.

He laughed at her.

"Sorry," Bulma said, wondering what had compelled her to even touch him in the first place. She shrugged and followed him into the kitchen, "By the way, I made sandwiches. You know, ham-and-cheese, peanut-butter-and-jelly, tuna salad, chicken salad ... that way you don't have to taste my cooking," She didn't have to say. He was eating already and seated at the small table in the kitchen, "Okay, well, save me one," he handed her a PB and J, "thanks, I guess."

He glanced up from his food to look at her. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Humph."

She groaned, "How did I figure that would be your answer?"

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Oh, that's it! Eat your lunch and go back to your damn gravity machine. And don't break it again!" she left the room in a huff. 

It wasn't like he minded as he muttered, "Damn that woman's impossibly loud mouth." Then he went right back to eating; of course, when he finished he went back to training.

* * *

Later that day, Bulma ignored Vegeta when he slipped into the house. She was immersed in reading one of her magazines and pouting over having yelled at Yamcha. She hated herself for never being able to control her temper. She hadn't even heard from Yamcha, much less seen him, and she figured he'd joined some of the guys to train. Then she rested her chin between her hands.

_How could I have done that!_ she thought to herself, sniffling, _With that threat, he'll never return. Never! I'll be stuck here -- forever -- destined to be lonely. Then I'll grow all old, and wrinkly and pruney-looking and never have known true love!_

She sighed, _I'm so bored right now ... and my parents don't understand and no use talking to Oolong and the only other being in the house wouldn't ever understand ... Huh ... Hey! I wonder if Vegeta ever feels left out? Haha! Whatever. He needs a major attitude adjustment_, she sighed again, flipping the pages of the magazine, _Wait what if... what if he really is lonely? I mean, I don't care, but he really does act lonely and the way he brushes people off and makes them feel so ... inferior ... doesn't help. Not at all! But I don't know what to do to help...besides, he wouldn't even want my help. And he just wants people to leave him alone. He's so damn abrasive. It's just not healthy!_

Bulma barely noticed when Vegeta came down the stairs until he'd reached the bottom with a stomp of both his feet. She looked up, gave him a slight smile and went back to looking at the magazine, musing over an observation she'd just made, _Hmm. No. He just wouldn't look right without that attitude of his. Actually, it makes him kinda cute. Cute isn't the right word though. Handsome_, she lifted her eyes to look at him, _in a dangerous way_

She sighed dreamily without realizing it; Vegeta frowned at her and left the room without saying anything. Bulma shrugged, got up and followed him into the kitchen where he was struggling with trying to fix something to eat. She giggled, then managed a straight face when he glared over his shoulder at her.

"Need some help?"

He growled, "Not from you!"

"Well it looks like you do!"

"I don't need any help!" He shouted at her.

She blinked then turned to leave, "Whoa, calm down. I'm so sorry I insulted his Royal Highness by offering my help."

"LEAVE!" Vegeta snarled at her, and Bulma wisely -- although it may have been from being stunned -- left.

Vegeta walked over to the fridge, got out week-old leftovers, sniffed at it disdainfully, scowled, and ate.

* * *


End file.
